TouchaTouchaTouchaTouch Me
by Saoirse the Irish Colleen
Summary: HPRHPS shameless parodizing! Katie Bell seeks more than a missing Weasley Head Boy in the Slytherin dungeons after a Quidditch match goes horrifically wrong. HMS Chasing Cross


**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. All _RHPS _lyrics and associated materials are the sole property of Jim Sharman, Richard O'Brien, Richard Hartley, Lou Adler, and Michael White.

**Toucha-Toucha-Toucha-Touch Me**

**By Saoirse the Irish Colleen**

"Oh Percy, how could this have happened to you!" Katie Bell sobbed emerging from the portrait hole. It was well beyond curfew, and wandering out into the corridors at that time of the hour didn't bode well for the prefect. Things were just continuing to go from bad to worse. That weekend had started out with the first Quidditch game of the season, perfect flying conditions, plenty of sun, and the few remaining wisps of summer to allow the students and professors of Hogwarts some liberty with their attire, abandoning their winter robes for another time. Slytherin versus Gryffindor, best get the bloodshed out of the way first Madame Hooch surmised as she set the schedule with Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, Oliver Wood, and Marcus Flint a little after the flying lesson for the new wave of first years earlier in the month.

But just days before the match, the _incident _in greenhouse five occurred. The third years were learning the basics on caring for the Vesuvius Flytrap, a potentially deadly breed of plant life, in its adult stage. However Professor Sprout had cast several growth-stunting charms over the buds during the summer hols to remain in an adolescent form, only reaching 9 inches in height and their diet consisting mostly of bats, assorted vermin, and fresh water. Apparently there had been a confrontation between a certain platinum-blonde Slytherin and a carrot-topped Gryffindor over one Lavender Brown and how her Flytrap had been somewhat sickly despite all of her frustrated ministrations caring for it over the first few class sessions.

Katie buried her face in both hands before boarding the elevator that went down to the dungeons, not knowing what to do and why she was going in the first place. The angry drafts wafted up her flimsy white nightgown and the cage ominously rattled when it came to a stop on one of the bottom most levels. Katie tore open the gate and made a beeline for Snape's classroom. "If only Alicia hadn't turned George into a bull!" She wailed. An in-class project in Transfigurations where the sixth years were paired off and assigned to turn one another into a small animal had went amuck with George Weasley and Alicia Spinnet. Somehow her wand had misfired turning George into a bull instead of a bunny. Unwittingly the transformed George had rammed Alicia and two Ravenclaws into some desks which were set aside for safety precautions for the lesson. The result was Alicia fracturing her wrist, thus taking her out of the game and reservist Chaser Ron Weasley was brought in.

"If only Ron had a better grip on his temper!" The incident in the greenhouse didn't only contain nasty words being exchanged between Ron and Draco Malfoy, but somewhere along the way Draco managed to curse Lavender's Flytrap to grow to its full 30 foot height wreaking havoc and panic throughout the school. Lavender had been sent to hospital for minor injuries like the rest of the 20 students present before bolting for safety on the campus. Fortunately Professors McGonnagol, Snape, Sprout, and Headmaster Dumbledore had remedied the situation and a relative calm was restored by dinner. Ron was far beyond fuming, he was already plotting his revenge and no matter what Harry or Hermione said or warned, there was little they could do stopping a Weasley when his mind was made up. That morning Ron awoke at the crack of dawn to set his plan in motion. Borrowing Harry's invisibility cloak he snuck to the broom shed, dragged out the Quidditch trunk, and proceeded to hex the Bludgers to trail Malfoy throughout the game.

"If only the Slytherins were reasonable… or at least sane." Katie moaned. But the Gryffindors were to blame for this bit of cheating; however Ron had miscalculated with the spell and charmed the Bludgers into targeting the _entire _Slytherin team. Neither his twin older brothers nor Bole and Derrick could fend them off. They suffered extensive injuries from flying into one another, the goalposts, and eventually throwing themselves off their brooms to end the match, ultimately forfeiting the game. The two notorious rival houses were thrust into an all-out war with Snape and McGonnagol at each other's throats, to a brawl between the players. Slytherin Head Boy Alexander Warbeck had chosen to remain in the grandstands letting his housemates battle it out, but it was Gryffindor's Head Boy Percy Weasley that intervened. He had ventured into the dungeons choosing to play diplomat and try to mediate the tensions earlier that evening, but hadn't been seen since.

"Percy… what have they done with him?!" On slippered feet she skimmed across the corridors which lead to Slytherin Dungeons. She came to the dead end where the snake charmer portrait was hung, strangely it was empty. Looking to the freezing stone floor the fog had rolled back revealing the trapdoor with its latch disengaged, and daring herself Katie pulled it open by its steel ring and descended down the wrought iron spiral staircase to the serpent's nest. Coming to the black lacquered double doors leading to their common room she opened it just a crack, wide enough for her to slide through silently. Contrary to popular belief, the Slytherin dungeons did not have devices of cruel and unusual punishment on display, or skeletal remains of Gryffindors hanging from the ceiling in irons, but it wasn't cozy either. They were gaping, black caverns ill lit and rather drafty. The fireplace was the centerpiece of the common room, taking up over half of the wall facing the entrance, the Slytherin crest and crossed swords hung over the mantle.

Black leather sofas and oversized armchairs were everywhere, antique deep cherry tables stacked with books, busts of Salazar Slytherin or other wizards of great notoriety from that house made of steely gray marble sat on them. A clock fashioned as a guillotine sat on an end table next to one of the many black Chin dynasty style lamps shaded with green glass. Oriental rugs of black and gray covered almost every square inch of floor to fend off the cold. Damask antimacassars of black and forest green trimmed in silver thread were thrown across the backs of sofas for the students to utilize. Katie spied an elegantly arranged pile of glistening, red apples on a tarnished tray on a long table nearest to the book cases. Remembering she hadn't had any supper because she was assisting Madame Pomfrey, Katie was tempted but thought better of it. Poisoned apples, one of the oldest Slytherin tricks in the book taken from many of the supposedly hated muggle fairy tales. What to do? She knew that the Quidditch team were holed up in the hospital because of the game, but they were too smart to keep to their beds not when they had their own to get back. Katie considered waking Slytherin prefect Terrence Higgs, someone she called friend because he approached interhouse relations with a more positive air and his cheerful repose. If it weren't for his family being in league with Lucius Malfoy, the hat would have sorted him into Ravenclaw. But she didn't know where the sixth years' dormitories were and the fact that the Slytherin dormitories in general constantly shifted didn't seem very appealing.

Katie was about to leave when she heard a deep groan from one of the sofas. She stood stalk-still, hands clasped to her chest when the owner of that groan sat up. Marcus Flint, bleary-eyed and his face scrunched up crankily randomly turned to face the doors. He did a double take as he saw a Gryffindor standing in his common room. The Slytherin captain slammed a fist into the leather cushion. "BELL!" He bellowed.

"Flint!" She was more than squicked as she danced back into the open door causing it to thunder shut.

Meanwhile in a homier part of the castle, Albus Dumbledore disapparated into his office in royal blue dressing gown and matching nightcap just returning from the kitchens. In both hands he carried his favourite after midnight snack, a steaming mug of strawberry tea and a plate piled high with cream cakes. Fawkes flew down from his perch on the headmaster's desk to land on the armrest of his favourite chair before the fireplace. Dumbledore was settling himself with Fawkes at his side, feeding him a couple of cakes and pulled into his lap one of his favourite muggle books, _The Oxford Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus_.

Setting up his magnifying glass over the pages he was reading last, Dumbledore sipped his tea and read aloud: "_'Emotion: Agitation or disturbance of mind vehement or excited mental state.' _It is also a powerful and irrational master; and from what Angelina and Alicia eagerly view in their cauldron, there seemed little doubt that Katie is its slave." The scholarly wizard explained to his brilliantly feathered friend.

In Gryffindor Tower's common room, dressed in their pajamas, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet concocted a brew in the big cauldron over the fire. Alicia swished her wand with her good hand and chanted a few words, when the whorls of smoke dissipated and a crystal clear picture of the Slytherin common room appeared. They saw Marcus Flint stand up from the sofa and their teammate Katie Bell come round it to face him.

"Tell us about it Katie." They chirruped.

"Look Flint," Katie exasperatedly huffed, "I've not come here to fight with you."

The troll-blood snorted. "That's a first." Flint positioned his arms akimbo. Katie shook her head, honey blond curls falling over her breasts.

"I have to know where… where…" It was then it had dawned upon her, that Flint was naked to the waist. Still dressed in his Quidditch khakis and boots that included bruises and scrapes from the scrimmage. Girl chat was girl chat and Marcus Flint's name had come up more than once when she, Angelina, Alicia, and Penelope Clearwater gossiped on which bloke had the nicest arse or well cut chest. Quidditch had whittled an impressive build, although Katie always argued that Oliver had a few inches on him in height. But had Wood ever looked at her the way Marcus was looking at her now? Unabashed lust, he even wet his lips and that triggered off odd, however pleasant sensations originating from her breasts and traveling lower.

When she had finally found her voice, Katie numbly pointed to his left pectoral. "You're bleeding." Flint's arms fell limp at either side.

"Eh?"

"I said you're scratch there is still bleeding." Well that buggered it. A perfectly good sexy moment gone to waste! "Why didn't you go to Madame Pomfrey?"

"Oh right. The last thing I need to hear is a bitching from a barmy old bird!" He flopped down the sofa again. "There's no justice for Slytherins!"

"That's not true!" Katie flared. "Madame Pomfrey takes care of anyone who walks through her hospital." She huffed. "Let me help you." Katie saw a water pitcher on a service cart and empty fruit bowl and set it on the coffee table. She pulled it closer to the sofa and sat on it in front of Flint. She poured the now lukewarm water into the bowl and tore a strip of her nightdress at the knee-length hem. Submerging the cloth in the water she began to wash his wounds. Then something unusual happened, Flint laid his hand gently on hers.

_I was feeling done in_

_Couldn't win_

_I'd only ever kissed before_

**(Angelina)**

You mean she…

**(Alicia)**

Uh-huh

_I thought there's no use getting into heavy petting_

_It only leads to trouble and_

Katie whips her head round, Marcus turns it back

_Seat wetting_

_Now all I want to know is how to go_

_I've tasted blood and I want more_

**(Angelina & Alicia)**

More more more

Katie rips at her skirt violently

_I'll put up no resistance_

_I want to stay the distance_

_I've got an itch to scratch _

_I need assistance_

Katie wraps her arms around Marcus' shoulders

_Toucha toucha toucha touch me_

_I wanna be dirty _

_Thrill me chill me fulfill me_

_Creature of the night_

They both get up from their seats

_Then if anything grows_

She giggles

_While you pose_

_I'll oil you up and rub you down_

She smoothes her hands down his chest

**(Angelina & Alicia)**

Down down down

_And that's just one small fraction of the main attraction_

_You need a friendly hand AH I need action_

_Toucha toucha toucha touch me_

_I wanna be dirty _

_Thrill me chill me fulfill me_

_Creature of the night_

Marcus buries his face in her neck and the image vanishes

_**(Angelina)**_

_Toucha toucha toucha me_

_**(Alicia)**_

_I wanna be dirty_

_**(Angelina)**_

_Thrill me chill me fulfill me_

_**(Alicia)**_

_Creature of the night_

The image returns Katie and Marcus caught in a snarl of emerald satin in his four poster

_OH! Toucha toucha toucha touch me_

_I oh wanna be dirty_

Lovingly fondling her, Marcus lies atop Katie

_Thrill me chill me fulfill me_

_Creature of the night_

They make love wildly, Katie and Marcus' hands and lips everywhere at once

_**(Marcus)**_

_Creature of the night_

_**(Oliver)**_

_Creature of the night_

_**(Snape)**_

_Creature of the night _

_**(Alicia)**_

_Creature of the night_

_**(Fred & George)**_

_Creature of the night_

_**(Angelina)**_

_Creature of the night_

_**(Katie)**_

_Creature of the night_

"**MARCUS!**"

**END**


End file.
